


You Bear the Scars / You've Done Your Time

by Commodore_Enigma



Series: We've Been Lonely Too Long [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Captain Allen Backstory, Captain Allen Needs a Hug, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Past Domestic Violence, Mention of past alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Nightmares, Scars, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commodore_Enigma/pseuds/Commodore_Enigma
Summary: Besides the sensual appeal, Gavin finds there’s a fascinating aspect to tracing his lover’s scars. The long-healed wounds reflect just how much Kent has survived through his life, and each one has its own story to tell. Kent obliges and shares some of his stories, but Gavin’s curiosity still isn’t sated.Some stories are easier to tell than others.
Relationships: Captain Allen/Gavin Reed
Series: We've Been Lonely Too Long [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604197
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	You Bear the Scars / You've Done Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> Though part of a series, this could be read on its own.
> 
> Credit goes to my mom for doing some proofreading and helping with the summary.
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of "Dust to Dust" by The Civil Wars.

The first time Gavin saw Kent without a shirt on, his sly attention went beyond looking Kent over with an encroaching embarrassment at his own intrigue. He saw a variety of scars, a fact of life for a bounty hunter that shouldn’t have stopped Gavin in his tracks. Before Gavin could ignore why they mattered so much, he was hit by the realization that Kenton Allen had a complex history of his own, well traveled and sometimes violent.

His curiosity at Kent’s past refused to wane. Through their shared travels and after Kent departed for Montana, a piece of his own heart following, Gavin wondered about the scars. When the euphoria of Kent returning and reciprocating his feelings had settled down, Gavin wondered again. But that time, he could act on it.

~ ~ ~

It was another cold night when he first gave in to his fascination and traced over Kent’s scars. 

Gavin moved away from his place against Kent’s chest, paying little attention to the shrill wind outside. Despite the chill that seeped in, enclosing on the warmth from the fireplace’s smoldering logs, Kent remained relaxed and let him go.

At that point, Gavin knew Kent was from middle-of-nowhere Iowa. Like Gavin, he had no desire to return to his roots. He’d been a patrol officer in Detroit for fourteen years, before his mother died and he pursued his interest in bounty hunting. 

By definition, living with Gavin when he wasn’t traveling was Kent’s first real home in eight years. In an emotional sense it’d been twenty years, give or take. When Kent was a boy, his father abandoned his family; an increased reliance on whiskey becoming his downfall. Through his teenage years and beyond he’d worked for a gunsmith, which explained his attitude towards the outdated weapons he was so fond of.

Gavin gazed down at Kent as he rested on the couch. In the remnants of their afterglow, the amber light danced across his bare skin and gentler expression. Though to say it aloud would’ve been difficult, Gavin could confidently think to himself in that moment that Kent was beautiful.

Many of his scars were on full display, and they caught Gavin’s attention again in the tranquility. During the heat of passion he’d touched them, but it’d rarely been intentional. Laying with Kent, he had a new chance to look them over. He peered down at Kent’s chest and touched his pointer finger to a dark line crossing over Kent’s right rib cage. If he studied it hard enough, perhaps he’d better understand it and from there, better understand Kent.

Under his feather-light touch, Kent’s body jolted and his eyes flew open. He looked up at Gavin, more confused than anything else. “What’re you…?”

Gavin let his finger trail along the scar, innocently commenting “just lookin.’” He hoped the firelight hid how his face heated up.

Examining Kent’s scars that night only intensified Gavin’s captivation. When they basked in the calm of their afterglow together he often found himself seeking out the scars, letting his hand caress Kent’s chest with no other intentions.

After it’d happened several times, Kent stopped giving him a strange but gentle look every time Gavin’s fingers brushed over him. Instead he let his eyes fall shut, settling back with a soft sigh. Gavin delighted in his reaction, tracing over the rugged lines of lacerations, cuts, and the more rounded, indented results of gunshots until he’d addressed many of them or grew too tired.

It became a ritual that soothed him greatly. Settled against Kent’s side and resting his head on his shoulder, Gavin traced over the long-healed wounds as they dozed off together. Along with the rise and fall of Kent’s chest and his steady heartbeat, it was an unmistakable reassurance that Kent was home again, safe and alive.

Following the first time, Kent never questioned or so much as opposed Gavin’s habit. Within a couple weeks he began to pull Gavin against his side, crossing an arm over his back whenever he felt Gavin’s fingers brush along his chest or arms. Kent rubbed circles across Gavin’s back and shoulders, pressing his lips to Gavin’s hair in an occasional sign of encouragement.

Within a month, Gavin had many of the scars and their places memorized. The act of touching Kent’s scars became a common routine for them. In the dark when they were about to fall asleep, Gavin sometimes sought out the scars, idly tracing over them until sleep took him over at last. With the warmth of Kent under his touch, his breath rustling Gavin’s hair, he knew his worst nightmares were nothing more than a lie.

When Gavin focused on one of the scars long enough, Kent began to speak up about them.

In his truncated manner he’d tell Gavin their origin stories. Kent remembered how he got most of them; the smallest and longest-faded marks often long forgotten or insignificant.

The narrow line over Kent’s right rib cage was from a scrape with a particularly willful thief back in Detroit. Numerous other little marks on him, often the handiwork of sharp objects, were from scuffles with the more ornery citizens he’d dealt with as a lawman. Kent reflected on those encounters in a tone that ranged from mild amusement to annoyance.

The three scars on his forehead were from the night his father left in a drunken rage. Decades hadn’t let Kent’s anger towards him fade, and his body had tensed under Gavin’s careful touch as he recalled his father lunging at his mother, clenching a hunting knife in an effort to end the shouting that’d filled their little cabin. How he’d stepped in to defend her; the knife slicing into his temple. His father cursing his name and his sister’s screams being the last thing he heard as he was shoved to the ground, his head colliding with the floorboards. The growing rage at his father cooled to sorrow, recollecting how he woke up to his head throbbing and his mother and sister’s watchful, tear-glistened eyes.

The one along his nose, almost identical to Gavin’s, was from a fight with another bounty hunter. Along with the constellation of small scars scattered across Kent’s left shoulder, arm, and back, it was a testament to why he preferred independence in his endeavors. “You’re the exception, though,” Kent had added, his icy tone melting away as he pressed a kiss to Gavin’s temple.

From his days as a lawman, a shootout with an amateur bank robber left him with an entrance and exit wound on his right side. Kent recalled his time recovering with clear disdain, having been stuck on desk work for a good month and a half; an experience Gavin was no stranger to.

~ ~ ~

There were some scars he learned about in other ways. One night after a stressful week for both of them, they crashed onto the couch in a drunken tangle, making lazy attempts at teasing.

“-so perfect, are ya? Always winnin’ races and shit…” Gavin complained in partial spite, leaning against Kent’s side.

“Not always, jackass. Y’know how I got the scar over here?” Kent gave his left arm’s sleeve a clumsy slap.

Even in his drunken state, Gavin knew that one remained a mystery. “Spill it.”

“There was this annoying older kid we were kinda neighbors with… Jay or something… I forgot and don’t care. Told me he could jump his horse the fastest over the fences at his family’s pastures. I hated that, so I told him I’d kick his ass and do it bareback, too. Because I was a better horseman.”

Kent barked a laugh and continued, “I was nine, and that was fuckin’ stupid. I raced him with my family’s mule, Old Jeb. He’d pulled plows and carried us around for errands. Never leapt a thing in his life. The first fence we approached, I spurred him hard as I could with my scrawny legs but he screeched to a halt. Whoever-he-was jumped his fancy family racehorse over the fence, and ‘cause I didn’t have a saddle to keep me on I kept going past Jeb’s neck and crashed into the fence. Nail got my arm, hurt like the devil. The doctor laughed so hard when my Ma told him the story he had to stop stitching it up.”

The mental image of an arrogant younger Kent getting launched off a mule made Gavin laugh uncontrollably. Between gasps for breath, wiping away near-tears, he commented “holy hell. That’s stupid as fuck, old man.”

“I said that already,” Kent whined.

“Well, it was worth repeatin’. A noble bounty hunter and ex-bull gettin’ launched into a fucking fence,” Gavin laughed to himself. “Some horseman you were.”

“Kids are dumbasses, Gav,” Kent reminded him, though he grinned anyway, a rare sight. It enthralled Gavin, and he crashed his lips against Kent’s, delighting in the lingering taste of bourbon.

The other times they drank too much, Kent told him about the less dignified scars he could remember. As a boy, he’d been a hell-raising, scrappy child ready to prove himself by any means necessary. Kent’s scars from his childhood included a few deep cuts from when he fell from trees he’d climbed too fast or got marked up from fighting other kids with sticks as they pretended to be knights. There was the faded scar on his thumb from when he’d sliced it with a knife on accident, startled by a boisterous chicken that’d sprinted by. With the influence of alcohol, they both laughed at Kent’s childhood antics time and again.

~ ~ ~

Summer came around, and Gavin knew about almost all of Kent’s notable scars. No matter how gallant or ridiculous the cause was, he knew their stories, and it endeared him to Kent even more than he’d thought possible.

There was one scar Kent never talked about. Faded by time but still prominent, on his right thigh just above his knee. A near-round, shallow dip of skin with a short line crossing through it.

When Gavin asked about it several different times, Kent didn’t even claim he forgot how it happened, which would’ve been a flimsy excuse. From its appearance, Gavin had a feeling it’d been caused by a gunshot wound, and he knew from his own experiences that nobody just forgets how painful and shocking it is to be hit by a bullet. Though he’d flinched at first, Kent let him touch the scar. But asking about it proved a dead end. It didn’t matter how gently Gavin phrased the question or how affectionate Kent was being, he always shook his head and his attention turned distant.

Gavin stopped asking about the scar after he tried to interrogate Kent on it. A day of processing paperwork while listening to the drunks in the cells alternate between complaining and cursing him out had worn him down, and for a time he stopped caring about boundaries, even Kent’s.

Kent, as stubborn as himself, had held his ground and gotten more agitated as Gavin cornered him in the kitchen and questioned him about the scar; what caused it, why Kent claimed it didn’t matter when it clearly did. Until Gavin’s inflamed question of why Kent didn’t trust him became the breaking point, and he stormed out of the house to cool off away from Gavin. Charging through the threshold, Kent had shouted with a fury he’d never before directed at Gavin, “it’s none of your fucking business!”

It took both of them two days to calm down and forgive each other again. That time before Kent accepted Gavin’s apology and let himself be held again was more agonizing than any other fight they’d had. Gavin decided, despite how insistent he wanted to be, that the subject wasn’t worth the fight Kent put up.

Still, he desperately wanted to know, and Kent’s defensive reaction to the scar fueled his curiosity. Even when they’d been drunk and Kent’s remaining emotional barriers were almost all down, he never talked about it. In such a loosened state, he’d changed the topic, ignored him, or grown defensive when Gavin had brought up the leg scar or the subjects that fueled his nightmares.

As much as it pained Gavin, the scar remained a mystery, and he grew doubtful he’d ever learn its story.

~ ~ ~

One stormy July night, Gavin got his answer.

He was shaken awake from a rare deep sleep by the bed jolting and the crash of thunder overhead. Over the sound of the wind rattling his window, he heard ragged breaths from the other side of the bed.

As always, Gavin’s heart wrenched at the sound. Even before he heard Kent’s pained cry of “ _no_ ,” he knew what to do.

“Kent, it’s not real,” he called over, though the onslaught of rain against the roof drowned out most of his words. He sat up and reached over to Kent’s bare shoulder, where he lay on his side facing away from Gavin.

When his hand touched Kent’s shoulder, his lover’s arm lashed back. Before he could lurch away in time, the back of Kent’s hand struck Gavin’s face.

“Shit!” Gavin hissed. He toppled back, the place of impact on his cheek stinging.

Kent rolled onto his back and didn’t wake up. Lightning flashed, and the intense light illuminated how Kent’s eyes were squeezed shut, his skin gleaming with sweat. Thunder rumbled, close enough to resonate through the house and Gavin’s body. 

“Stop- make it- _please_ -” Kent moaned between shallow breaths, his voice heightened from distress.

Gavin scrambled over to his nightstand, determined to snap Kent out of his panicked state. With some fumbling, the kerosene lamp was lit and a warm light filled their bedroom.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Kent turned back onto his side, his breaths shallow and rapid.

“C’mon old man, it’s not real!” Gavin called to him, louder that time. When Kent didn’t respond, Gavin pressed his hand to his shoulder and lurched away. Kent gasped and woke with a start, sitting up and frantically scanning the room until his attention snapped to Gavin.

He acknowledged Gavin with an unfocused inhuman stare, and it hurt Gavin just as much as the first time he’d witnessed it.

Gavin began to recite the usual lines of reassurance. “Hey,” he called, his soft voice loud enough over the rain.

Though Kent began to focus on Gavin, the strange gleam in his eyes remained. 

“You’re home, Kent. Nothing will hurt you here,” Gavin soothed.

The mixture of anger and fear fell away from Kent’s expression, replaced by sorrow. He didn’t move towards the waiting comfort of Gavin’s arms, and his heart sunk at that loss of routine.

“You’re okay, Kent,” he continued while shuffling closer, a hand extended, “it wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

Kent fixated on part of his face, and his expression changed to horror. He shrank away from Gavin before he could touch him, turning his back to Gavin and clinging to himself on the farthest edge of the bed.

“Kent?” Gavin noticed how his body trembled.

His voice was shrill with realized fear. “I _hit_ you- I- I’m-”

Though his cheek still stung, Gavin didn’t care about the pain. Thunder boomed again, and Kent startled at the sound, pressing himself against the headboard.

Gavin started to reach his hand out again to touch Kent. The thunder subsided and Kent’s broad shoulders shook, a lone ragged gasp for breath escaping him. Gavin realized it was a sob.

His heart turned to lead at the sound. So many months together and he’d never seen or heard Kent cry before, even with past nightmares.

“Kent-”

His lover’s words were a tumble of self-inflicted fear. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to-” A shaky gasp cut off his apologies.

Gavin settled closer to him, his fingertips brushing over Kent’s back. When Kent didn’t flinch away from him, he pressed his hand to Kent’s sweat-coated skin. “I know you didn’t. That one was worse than the usual, huh?” He asked.

Kent heaved another sob, and that was enough of an answer.

“I- fuck… this is so pathetic,” Kent whimpered, and Gavin ran his hand over his shoulders. “I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay.”

Lightning flashed. Seconds later, thunder crashed, powerful enough to rattle the house and drown out any other sound. Kent jolted at the noise, curling in on himself with another shaky cry as it subsided. The sight of his bounty hunter in such a state broke Gavin’s heart clean in two.

“C’mere,” he prompted, settling behind Kent with his back against the headboard and pillows.

Kent turned back around after a moment of hesitation, avoiding Gavin’s gaze as he took another shaky breath.

Gavin wrapped his arms around Kent, pulling him closer, and Kent let himself collapse against Gavin’s chest, hiding his face in the crook of Gavin’s neck.

“I’m…” Kent began, but his broken voice gave way to a sob as Gavin’s hand settled in his hair, petting down the tousled strands.

Gavin rested his cheek on Kent’s head, murmuring “it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He ran his hand in circles over Kent’s back and shoulders. Under his hands, Kent’s whole body shook. With every inhale his sobbing hitched for a moment, as if he were still trying to stop himself from crying. Just as emotionally guarded as himself, Gavin thought with a heartbroken fondness. “Just let it all out, sweetheart.”

Kent clung to him tighter, his fingernails digging into Gavin’s back. His tears were warm and wet against Gavin’s skin.

“You’re safe. You’re home. Nothing will hurt you here, I promise,” Gavin soothed, and he hoped Kent heard him over the storm and his own agonized cries.

The thunder became more faint until it faded entirely, and the rain calmed to a gentle drizzle. With that, Kent’s weeping began to slow until it disappeared, and his breaths began to even out again. He didn’t move away, and neither did Gavin.

“I’m sorry, Gav,” Kent whispered, his voice crackling.

The shame in his tone wasn’t lost on Gavin, and he hugged Kent tightly. “Don’t apologize. I know you weren’t yourself.”

“Still, I...”

As distressed as he was by Kent’s sorrow, Gavin felt a spark of endearment at Kent’s intent version of caring. “Not on purpose. Besides, I’ve had much worse.”

Kent moved his chin to Gavin’s shoulder, resting his head against Gavin’s. “I know you have.”

He didn’t look towards Gavin’s scars that time, but from the weight of the statement alone Gavin just _knew_ . The ungodly hour of the night caught up with him, and he sighed in exhaustion. He fought away memories of the fateful night on the canyon as he lectured Kent gently. “ _Kenton_. Don’t you dare go down that road. It wasn’t your fault, you understand me?”

Kent nodded again, and Gavin left it at that.

The wind resumed outside, a quiet whine, and Gavin’s eyelids grew heavy, his arms settling around Kent’s waist. Despite his looser embrace, Kent remained nestled against him.

Though he was on the verge of falling back asleep, Gavin whispered, “you feelin’ better?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin pressed a swift kiss to his hair. “Good.” He already knew the answer, but he still asked, “you wanna talk about it?”

Just like every time before, Kent shook his head. Gavin left it at that and tried to ignore the distress he felt over the nightmares remaining a mystery.

Kent’s breath became slow and soft, and they settled in for sleep.

Though his back grew stiff and Kent’s chin dug uncomfortably into his shoulder, Gavin began to fall asleep sitting upright, holding Kent.

The silence was broken by a simple enough question, one of detached interest. “You were too young to remember much of the Civil War, huh?”

“Yeah,” Gavin mumbled. He snapped awake as he repeated the question in his mind, wondering why the Hell Kent would ask that. Though he’d given up on learning of Kent’s nightmares, the timing made him suspicious. “Is that…?” He let his question trail off, uncertain of Kent’s boundaries in that moment.

Kent took a deep, unsteady breath. “Yeah. I almost missed it myself. But when I turned eighteen, I got drafted.”

Gavin listened to the quiet and wondered if he’d continue. When Kent didn’t, he asked gently to confirm once and for all: “the nightmare, right?”

Kent nodded, and Gavin’s heart dropped. 

“Oh, Kent,” Gavin whispered his name with sorrow. He embraced Kent again, his hands settling on his back.

“I was lucky, I didn’t see as much as the others I knew. Only a few months of fighting after I’d been trained.” Kent swallowed, and the previous detachment in his voice disappeared. “But during one battle, I was shot in the leg.”

The mystery scar returned to his mind, and Gavin’s heart lurched. No wonder Kent never spoke of it. Gavin felt like a giant asshole over how pushy he’d been. Kent pressed himself closer, his face hiding in the crook of Gavin’s neck again, and Gavin held him tighter.

Kent’s brusque tone was gone. His words were hesitant and quiet against Gavin’s collarbone as he recalled: “After that, I had surgery done. And, well… they didn’t have anything but whiskey to numb me before I passed out, and it was a chaotic battlefield hospital. They didn’t get everything out on the first try, and I got a fever. By the time they realized their mistake and cleaned the wound thoroughly, I was beyond delirious.”

“I-” his voice cracked in the threat of another sob, and Gavin curled himself around Kent the best he could given their positions, resting his chin on Kent’s hair. “I just remember thinking I’d die in that hospital. I was scared, in the worst agony of my life, and for a time I couldn’t even remember who I was or where I’d come from. Nothing was familiar.”

With thinly veiled anger, Kent added, “and then the surgeon in Livermore… he fucked up yours..”

That was news to Gavin, as he remembered almost nothing from those couple days. “That’s why I had that fever?” He realized aloud, his fingers running through Kent’s hair.

Kent nodded. His voice trembled from sorrow and fury alike, “he didn’t sedate you enough the second time around. I was ready to kill that bastard hearing your cries. I was-” he stopped himself short as his voice broke. “It was hard seeing you in so much pain, the way I was so many years ago.” He clung to Gavin, tight enough his fingernails dug into his back. 

Gavin hardly noticed, and he pressed his cheek to the side of Kent’s head, his hand rubbing circles between Kent’s shoulder blades. There were so many things he wanted to tell Kent as he recalled his past, but he stopped himself short.

He took a shaky breath and added, “you didn’t deserve that Gav. I should’ve done more.”

It still astounded him how much irrational blame Kent could put on himself, and Gavin had to interrupt the story he’d waited so long to hear from that alone.

Gavin brought his hand to Kent’s shoulder and moved him away. Kent avoided his gaze, and Gavin cupped his hand under his chin, tilting it up so they looked at each other eye-level. “Keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart,” he ordered gently. A clear pain was written in Kent’s eyes, and Gavin wished it’d disappear. He brushed his thumb along the scar on Kent’s cheek, a habit he had no intention of breaking. “Don’t beat yourself up over that. Not now, not ever. Like it or not, you can’t control everything.” Kent’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and Gavin added in affection, “you did everything you could. You jumped into action and got me to help. You stayed with me through all of it. Sure, those days were a blur of delirious agony and fear, but I remember bits and pieces. It helped, knowing you were there.”

“I’m glad.” Kent replied.

He let go of Kent’s chin and let the back of his hand caress Kent’s jaw. Kent leaned into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut, and Gavin’s heart lightened at that.

“You’ve done more for me than anyone else I’ve ever known, Kent. I’ll forever be grateful for that,” Gavin murmured, stroking his thumb over Kent’s cheek.

Kent gave a weak nod. “Good. ‘Cause that hospital…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the nightmares or that scar so much,” Gavin combed back Kent’s ruffled hair. “The storm made it worse, huh?” 

“It did. Thunder sounded too familiar.” He let out a sigh of exhaustion and locked eyes with Gavin. In that moment, he looked worn well beyond his forty-three years. “I've been through the mill, Gav. I've been in more shootouts than I care to try counting, I've fought people that should’ve been colleagues and volatile outlaws alike. I’m no stranger to violence and death, just like you. I got a taste of all that before I was even drafted. But _that_... that was Hell. I never was the same after. Decades later, I remember it clear as day."

“That the main nightmare you get?” Gavin asked, cupping Kent’s face, desperate to make him feel at ease again.

“No. But it’s the worst,” he admitted at a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut and nestling his jaw to Gavin’s palm.

Gavin watched him quietly, his thumb stroking over Kent’s cheek as Kent began to relax again under his touch.

After a while, Kent pulled away and sat upright, away from the reach of Gavin’s arms. He glanced around the room, observing their surroundings with a usual alertness. “Storm’s over now,” he noted, in a brusque tone that sounded more like him.

“We should go back to sleep,” Gavin coaxed. “You alright now?”

“Think so.”

“Good.” 

Kent leaned in and touched his forehead to Gavin’s, letting out a gentle sigh. A brief display of affection that reassured Gavin, as always, that he’d begun feeling like himself again.

Gavin rested his head against Kent’s, his eyes closing in contentment as their breaths intermingled.

Fingers brushed at his cheek, along where Gavin had been struck on accident. He didn’t flinch away when he opened his eyes, but Kent still watched him with concern. “Does it hurt badly?”

“No.” It was a partial lie, but his tone was reassuring enough that Kent didn’t press further. Even in sleep, Kent’s capabilities bled through. There was a dull ache to his cheek with such a light touch, and Gavin knew it’d leave a nasty bruise. But for now, easing Kent’s concerns came first.

As much as he enjoyed Kent’s hand against his face, it’d gone on long enough for such a late hour. His body felt heavy with fatigue, and he moved away from Kent’s touch as a yawn escaped him.

Kent settled back on his side of the bed, gathering the sheets around him and facing away from Gavin.

Gavin gravitated back to him, resting his cheek against Kent’s neck. He nestled his chest to Kent’s back, his arms slipping around Kent, delighting in how Kent relaxed and let himself be held.

Gavin wrapped himself around Kent, as though he could shield Kent from both the world outside their home and his own memories. If he held Kent tight enough and willed it to happen, perhaps the scar on Kent’s leg would disappear, and with it the unpleasant memories that’d carried through so much of his life. The marks by Kent’s heart and temple could fade away, too, along with the others that’d caused him so much internal turmoil. His lover could rest easier, able to sleep and go about his days without fear of reliving past events of suffering ever again.

His hand settled over Kent’s heart, where Gavin could feel its rhythm. Kent’s chest rose and fell under his hold, even and calm.

“Night, Gav,” Kent mumbled, covering Gavin’s hand with his own and lacing their fingers together.

“Sleep well, old man.” He overlapped his legs with Kent’s, another reminder to him as he fell back asleep he wasn’t alone. As if by holding Kent close enough, he could ward off Kent’s nightmares.

Gavin knew his wishes wouldn’t ever work; it was beyond his power. 

That wouldn’t stop him from trying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
